River
by Yahtzee
Summary: In the spring, Daniel came to London to ask Betty to give the two of them a chance. Betty said no, though she's regretted it ever since. Now it's Christmastime - what happens when they meet again?
1. Chapter 1

_December 7, 2010_

Betty had learned at MODE that editing a magazine involved all kinds of activities that had nothing to do with editing, or even magazines. For instance, at the holidays, a major publication was expected to not only put on a party for the staff but also to either host or take part in a few major charity bashes.

She remembered how she'd once straightened Daniel's tie as he'd headed out for a party to benefit Habitat for Humanity – red silk between her fingers, his smile only a few inches away –

Enough. She shut her eyes, willed herself not to think about Daniel Meade again, and turned back to the task at hand.

Her assistant, Lillian, had turned the conference room table into a kind of diagram of how the entire Pediatric Leukemia Relief benefit would go. "All right, we've got all 40 tables filled, at last – looked toward a few of the major foundations for help with that, and they came through. The champagne's been donated, but not delivered, though we ought to have it tomorrow morning at the latest. And the florist sent me snaps of the arrangements – aren't they marvelous?"

They were – red and white, more exotic blooms, piled high in silvery mercury glass urns that suggested Christmas cheer without being too boring or obvious. "This is fabulous, Lillian. I can't believe we're making a go of a holiday party on a Wednesday."

"It's late enough in the season that nobody's really working that hard," Lillian said, before hastily adding, "Besides me, of course. And you!"

"Who did you get to take the last tables?" It was only idle curiosity that made Betty ask, so she wasn't at all braced for the answer.

"Well, FT took one more, and then the Calloway Foundation snapped up the final two."

The Calloway Foundation. One of the world's largest charitable foundations, which directed the accumulated donations of enormously wealthy families towards worthy cancer-related charities and research. Though Betty had heard of it years ago, she'd been far more aware of it since this spring, when they'd taken on a new Director of Giving.

One Mr. Daniel Meade.

"Great," she said, fighting to keep her smile in place. "That's great."

That night, at home in her tiny Bloomsbury studio, Betty lay in bed clutching her quilt to her chest. The heat wasn't very effective, and the windows were old enough that cold breeze blew through to shake the ornaments on her tabletop tree. Usually that annoyed her; now she hardly noticed it.

All she could think about was that long-ago day in April when Daniel had told her he loved her, and she had told him to leave her alone.

"Betty – I know I'm, well, not the guy you were dreaming of, but if you'd give me a chance –"

"I came here for a new start, Daniel. Not to fall back into the same old pattern."

"We wouldn't."

"You don't know that."

Hilda had asked her whether Daniel was really in love or just rebounding from Molly's loss. Christina had asked her whether Daniel had it in him to be faithful to someone in the long term. Betty hadn't been able to give a hard and fast answer to either of those questions. So when she looked at Daniel on that chilly, rainswept night – his gray sweater beaded with raindrops, his arms crossed in front of his chest – she'd seen only someone wounded. Damaged.

Her own good fortune was so new then, seemingly so fragile. She hadn't believed in her own independence yet ... not really, not down deep. Maybe that was why she hadn't been able to envision their relationship in any way other than what it had often been before: Her as caretaker, him as irresponsible boy.

"Please, Daniel." Her voice had been so firm. As if she were totally certain, instead of feeling her soul curling and blackening like paper in fire. "I'm flattered – really – and I only want the best for you, but I don't want – "

"Okay. I get it." His shoulders had been hunched up as if he were warding off a blow. Somehow Daniel had managed to smile at her, though there was no disguising the pain in his eyes. "I'll be in touch – I mean, you're my friend no matter what – but I need a while."

"Of course."

And their silence had stretched from that day to this.

She'd heard about him, of course; there was no way to work in media and totally avoid hearing about Daniel Meade. But oh, what she'd heard.

Within a month, he'd taken the job at the Calloway Foundation, just outside of London. Christina had wondered if he'd put up a Meade family donation to get the position, essentially bribing his way in – which was the first time Betty had realized just how out-of-date Christina's ideas about Daniel were, and how out of synch they were with her own. And how stupid it had been to listen to the advice of someone who, however well-meaning, didn't know Daniel the way she did.

Within three months, Betty had begun reading about major donations to the foundation from families who had never been part of the effort before: the Rockefellers, the Batistas, the Rothschilds, the Perssons. Maybe Daniel had known some of their sons and daughters in prep school. (Wait, no: just the sons. Given the way Daniel used to act around women, if he'd known the daughters, he probably wouldn't be as persuasive with them now.) Maybe he'd known which resorts to stalk, which restaurants to book. For whatever reason, he wasn't just a good fundraiser for the Calloway Foundation; he was phenomenal.

Within six months, the Calloway Foundation had announced its largest bequest ever –eight figures – to a research foundation that was near a breakthrough on the same kind of leukemia that had killed Molly.

Betty had wanted so badly to email or call Daniel then. To tell him how proud she was of him, how proud Molly would be.

But Daniel no doubt knew Molly's pride on a level nobody else could. And telling Daniel she was proud of him herself seemed hypocritical after she'd essentially sent him away by saying that she couldn't envision him as anything other than the playboy he'd once been.

Maybe that was harsher than she'd really been. Given the pain in Daniel's eyes, though – maybe not.

And she knew that if she ever saw Daniel again, he'd see pain in her eyes, too. Because over the past few months, she'd caught herself countless times, thinking of something she wanted to tell Daniel, a joke only he would get or an insight only he would understand. Because she'd gone from being unable to imagine what it would be like to kiss Daniel from being unable to stop regretting that she hadn't found out. Because London – exciting and exhilarating as her life was here – could also be lonely, and the men she dated were handsome and charming and yet mysteries to her. Daniel's heart – warm, generous, guileless, loyal, hers – had been the missing piece to the puzzle all along.

It looked like that puzzle would never be complete. The silence between them suggested he'd taken her rejection hard; even their friendship was a thing of the past. Sometimes she resented that, feeling that he should have tried to keep their friendship alive, at least – didn't she deserve that much? Other times, she knew she was only wishing he'd asked again, so she could undo her old mistake. Clearly, the window of opportunity for them had passed.

_You'll get over it,_ she told herself sternly. _You've lost men you loved before. It's nobody's fault – not even Hilda and Christina's. You'd better get your act together; you've got less than 24 hours before the benefit._

Because the guest roster Lillian had showed her had Daniel Meade's name at the top of the Calloway Foundation list.


	2. Chapter 2

_December 8, 2010_

Red and white flowers piled high in mercury glass. Soft classical music playing. Champagne flutes moving on silver trays so smoothly that they seemed to be floating.

The whole evening seemed to Betty to be only a hazy dream until the moment Daniel walked in the door.

He wore an evening suit with a silk tie in the same shade of purple he'd always favored. His hair was a little longer, and he'd regrown the beard, though in a far better-groomed way than before. A girl was on his arm – not some anorexic bimbo, but a tall, sophisticated looking woman with a pixie haircut and an ivory sheath dress that Betty had envied in Harrods.

And glasses. His girlfriend wore glasses. Why did that hurt?

But when Daniel saw her, he smiled – so broadly and so sincerely that she couldn't help smiling back. As he started making his way toward her, she took a quick gulp of her champagne and walked toward him in turn.

"Betty," he said. "You look amazing."

"You do too." Which was an understatement; Daniel had never looked more handsome to her. Maybe that was because he wasn't just hot any longer: A truly earned pride shone from him. His smile wasn't boyish; he was a man now – the man she'd always wanted him to be. "I'm so glad you came tonight."

"This is exactly the kind of cause the Calloway Foundation wants to be involved with – but even if it weren't, I would've wanted to see you. It's overdue, I know." Daniel turned to the woman on his arm and said, "Betty, this is Yuriko Hishimi. Yuriko, this is Betty Suarez, the editor of THAMES. Impossible as it must be to believe, she used to be my assistant. Trust me, it would've been more appropriate if I'd been assisting her."

"It's so nice to meet you, Yuriko," Betty managed to say. "What do you do?"

"I play violin in the LSO. Teach a little on the side." Yuriko's laugh was bashful. "So it's half glamorous black dresses and brilliant compositions, half dealing with sullen little kids who refuse to practice. But there's no substitute for doing what you love, is there? Daniel tells me this job is basically your dream come true."

"It is." Though there had been so much more to dream for. Why had her imagination fallen so short when it came to Daniel? Here he was, not only successful, mature and happy, but also, apparently, partnered with someone worth knowing.

"THAMES is terrific, by the way," Yuriko said. "I subscribed after the first issue – and yes, you can check the records to see!"

"Thanks so much; that's great to hear." Damn it, she was going to have to like her.

Daniel put his free hand on her shoulder – just a brief touch, but Betty felt it as she'd never felt it before, like a jolt of electricity going through her, warming her from the inside out. "I know you need to circulate at this thing, but … catch up with me later on, okay? I'd love to hear how you're doing."

"Absolutely," Betty said, hoping they wouldn't see one another the rest of the night. Maybe ever.

The evening went beautifully, at least from a hostess' point of view. The speakers kept it brief, the drinks and food flowed smoothly, the media presence was solid and the donations were generous.

From a woman's point of view, it was torture. Knowing Daniel was here – was with someone, not just a girl but somebody who seemed to deserve him – it was like being confronted with every single mistake she'd ever made, one after the other. Turning Daniel down was only one of those mistakes, but at this moment, it seemed to stand for them all. Up to and including that time she'd farted loudly in sixth-grade gym class.

Later in the party, as things settled somewhat, Betty had a few seconds to herself. She made her way to the outskirts of the gathering where she wouldn't have to wear a public smile. Though her curiosity made her want to look for Daniel and Yuriko, she managed not to. Instead she drank some icewater and closed her eyes.

"There you are," Daniel said softly.

Betty turned to see him standing only a couple of feet away. She was acutely aware of the low neckline of her strapless navy dress, of the way the heels she wore made her tall enough that kissing him wouldn't have been impossible. No, the impossibility had been all her own doing.

He looked worried as he added, "Like I said – I realize I should've been in touch before now. But I wanted to be sure we'd be all right, you know?"

"I get it." He wanted to be absolutely sure he was 100% over her. Oh happy day. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm – working the room. But as that goes, it's okay. The event is beautiful, Betty; you've outdone yourself. Guess there really isn't anything you can't accomplish."

His voice was so warm, his gaze so gentle. She had to stay focused. "Is Yuriko having fun?"

"Oh, yeah. Turns out one of her former classmates at Trinity College is playing with the musicians here – she's saying hi." He pointed toward the musicians, where one of the violinists was taking a break to talk with Yuriko while the others played the "Cherry Tree Carol."

"Great," Betty said. "That's great."

"You've become everything you ever wanted to be." Daniel looked down at his champagne flute, almost rueful, before smiling at her again. "It's been amazing watching you turn into the toast of London. Even watching from a distance."

"It's been amazing watching you too. I'm so glad you've finally found the life you really wanted." And that much, at least, was totally true.

"Thanks." He took a deep breath. "Listen, I realize we parted on, uh, awkward terms. But we're both here in London, and I'd like it if we could try to – rebuild some bridges, you know? We were such good friends before I messed it up, and … I miss you. I mean, I've got a girlfriend now, and Yuriko and I are really solid, so you don't have to worry about me – getting confused, anything like that. If we could just hang out again once in a while, like we used to when we got away from the office, that would mean the world to me."

How could she say no to that? His hope was so tangible, so humble. And didn't she want that too, down deep? If Daniel could get over his romantic disappointment, she ought to be able to get over hers. "We should. Hang out, I mean. I've missed you too."

"Yeah? Okay. Okay, that's good." Daniel didn't seem to know what to say next; he must have thought she'd say no. "Are you – when are you heading home for Christmas?"

"Not until the 22nd." The ticket had been difficult for her to afford, but Hilda and Bobby had chipped in as part of her gift. "And coming back on the 26th. What about you?"

Daniel hesitated. "I'm not sure whether I'm going."

"Really? Are your mom and Alexis coming to London?"

"I thought maybe I should spend some time here."

With Yuriko, he meant, and the thought lacerated Betty's heart. But was there more to it, too? "Is everything okay?"

"Well – Mom's kind of on this kick. She wants us to 'confront the past' and talk about all our old Christmases, which I'd really rather avoid, you know?"

Betty well knew how terrible some of the Meade family Christmases had been, back when his mother was drinking and his father was relentlessly unfaithful. She also knew how scarring that had been for young Daniel, and how resolutely he tried to put that in the past. "It would be hard, but maybe she has the right idea. You guys could finally clear the air."

"She beats herself up about it. I can't stand watching her do that." His jaw clenched, and she could see both his bitter memories and his desperate love for his mother. "Why can't she let it go?"

"I think she's trying to. But for her, that might mean talking it through." Old habits made her want to reach out and touch him, but that distance between them wasn't yet bridged. "If you're not ready, just tell her. Think about making yourself ready. Let her know where you are with it."

Slowly, Daniel nodded. He gave her a sidelong look, a wistful smile on his face. "I thought I knew how much I'd missed you, but I was wrong."

Betty felt warmth flush through her, heating her cheeks, making words bubble up inside her no matter how badly they should remain unspoken. "I'm always here for you, Daniel. Always will be."

"Same here." The moment hung between them, heavy with meaning, until Daniel shook it off with an obvious attempt at cheer. "Hey, I'm having a Christmas party. My place. Sunday night. Nothing crazy, just a wine and cheese type thing. Are you free?"

"Sunday. Definitely. Email me the details." She wasn't concentrating on what she'd just promised to; she could only see Yuriko, lovely and grinning, walking back toward them. Correction: Toward Daniel. _Her_ boyfriend.

"Will do." As if he sensed Yuriko's approach, he glanced over his shoulder and grinned at his date before turning back to Betty. "See you then, all right?"

"All right."

That was their only farewell. Daniel turned and walked away from her, toward Yuriko, toward the new, better life he'd made for himself. The one he'd made without her.

She managed to get through the rest of that night well enough, mostly because of her post-party exhaustion and the many details she had to handle – which kept her on-site until almost midnight. Thursday and Friday were okay too, because the next issue of THAMES was headed toward close and her work filled every second of very long days. Both evenings, she got home after ten and crawled into bed almost immediately.

Saturday, though – Saturday was empty. And it felt even emptier when she woke up to see an email from Daniel, reminding her of the party the next evening and explaining how to get to his place.

Betty shut off the computer, put on her fleece and went out for a brisk walk. The day was cold, but the walk would heat her, and her headphones could double as earmuffs. She hoped the exercise would tire her out. Make her exhausted all over again. That way, she wouldn't keep beating herself up about Daniel; that way, she'd be able to come up with a plan for getting through the party and acting all nicey-nice to his girlfriend, and -

_Listen to yourself_, she thought. _You liked Yuriko. And you should be excited that your friendship with Daniel has another chance._

At this point, her iPod's Christmas mix shuffled out one of her favorite songs – Joni Mitchell's "River." The words hit her as they never had before:

_It's coming on Christmas _

_They're cutting down trees _

_They're putting up reindeer _

_And singing songs of joy and peace _

_Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on _

_But it don't snow here _

_It stays pretty green _

_I'm going to make a lot of money _

_Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene _

_Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on _

_I wish I had a river so long _

_I would teach my feet to fly _

_I wish I had a river I could skate away on _

_I made my baby cry_

_He tried hard to help me _

_You know, he put me at ease _

_And he loved me so naughty _

_Made me weak in the knees _

_Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on_

_I'm so hard to handle _

_I'm selfish and I'm sad _

_Now I've gone and lost the best baby _

_That I ever had _

_I wish I had a river I could skate away on _

_Oh, I wish I had a river so long _

_I would teach my feet to fly _

_I wish I had a river _

_I could skate away on _

_I made my baby say goodbye _

It killed her. It just – killed her.

Betty pulled off the headphones, sank onto the nearest bench and felt hot tears filling her eyes. Her throat ached from holding back the sobs.

Why didn't I give him a chance? Betty thought. But she knew, down deep, that Daniel wasn't the one she hadn't given enough credit to. Betty hadn't been scared of him failing her; she'd been scared of failing herself. Of not charging headlong into her new life if she had someone from her past to fall back on all the time. Which now seemed crazy.

The regret only hurt more now that she knew why she'd done it – and that it hadn't had a damn thing to do with Christina or Hilda, who had meant well but trusted her judgment. They'd just been the people whose words she'd used as an excuse for her own fear. Worst of all, Daniel would always think she hadn't believed in him. She wondered if, down deep, he took some satisfaction in proving her wrong. But no. He wasn't that petty anymore.

Not only had he grown up – he might have outgrown her.

No, she couldn't go to Daniel's party tomorrow night. The only way to do that was for her to be fake about her own feelings – which wouldn't bring back their friendship, only a sham of it. In the end, that would hurt them as much as anything else. Their friendship couldn't revive while her heart was still broken. Daniel had healed faster, but maybe it was always worse when you were the one who'd broken your own heart.

Betty knew she had to walk away from Daniel again, for good this time. Now, however, she would be brave enough to tell him the truth about why.

Brave or not, it took her until after dinnertime to steel herself. Probably Daniel would be out – unless, maybe Yuriko had a concert that night, in which case maybe he was free – but the main thing was to make the call, Betty told herself. Once he'd seen that she'd phoned him, he would either call back or text eventually. In other words, taking the first step toward this conversation made it inevitable. No more backing out.

So she scrolled through her phone contacts to the London number he'd given her at that first wonderful dinner – the one where his presence was so new that she couldn't feel anything but hope – and called it for the first time in months.

He picked up on the first ring. "Betty! Hi!"

"Hi there!" Oh, great. She'd had the voicemail message all planned in her head, hoping she'd have a little longer to come up with the actual conversation. "Where are you?"

"At home, getting ready for tomorrow night. Once you stop relying on caterers, it turns out parties are a lot of work. Who knew?"

Betty couldn't help laughing. "You could still hire a bartender, you know."

"24 hours' notice during the holiday season? I doubt it. That's okay, though. It's just going to be a couple dozen of us."

No putting it off any longer. "Actually, Daniel – I'm not going to be able to make it."

"Oh." Just that one syllable revealed how hurt he felt, but obviously Daniel wanted to put on a brave face. "Okay, well, yeah, stuff comes up this time of year. But let's try to get together … maybe after New Year's – "

"Daniel, I'm sorry. I can't."

She heard his sigh – not one of exasperation, but one that sounded nearly as upset as she felt. "If you're afraid I'm going to – bother you again, try to change things between us, I swear, I'm not. Just friends, Betty. I mean it."

He was trying to make things better, and instead it was only getting worse. "That's the whole problem."

"Wait – Betty, what -?"

"I can't be around you right now. We were never in the same place at the same time, Daniel." Taking a deep breath, she plunged ahead. "When you wanted more, I didn't. And now that I've come to want more, you've moved on. It sucks, and it's my fault – but basically, I'm where you were in April, and I need as much time as you needed, so I can't come to the Christmas party. I just can't. Please don't ask me to."

A long silence followed, until Daniel quietly said, "Wait. Back up. You want more?"

"You're too good to rub my face in it, I know." Betty used the sleeve of her bathrobe to wipe at her cheeks. "And I'm glad for you. Seriously. Yuriko seems like she's awesome. You deserve to be happy. Someday, hopefully, we can all go out and – "

"Wait, wait,_ wait_." His voice had changed, taking on a kind of tension that seemed poised between happiness and fear. "Yuriko – yeah, she's awesome, but – I met her three weeks ago."

"… three weeks? But – but you said she was your girlfriend! That you guys were solid."

"I was – okay, I was lying. Just trying to put you at ease about the whole unrequited thing. I shouldn't have done it, I know that, it was a total 'old Daniel' move, but – can we get back to the part where you want more?"

He'd been lying. Daniel was mature, strong and together but still, deep down, a doof. Who knew she needed so badly to hear that Daniel was still a little bit of a doof? And he sounded so excited – Betty's heart started to pound faster as her dark mood let in one single shaft of hope.

Was it possible? Could she maybe not be too late after all?


	3. Chapter 3

In disbelief, Betty said, "So, you and Yuriko – you're not actually – "

"That was only our second date, unless you count – this thing that doesn't count, Jesus, Betty, seriously, you really mean it?" Daniel's voice sounded almost as astonished as she felt.

"I—" Her voice cracked, but she pressed on, managing to whisper, "I do."

"Well – are you home? I could, uh, come by, maybe. Or is there somewhere we can meet? We should talk about this, right? I need – I'd like to see you tonight. If that's not, I don't know, rushing it or something."

"No, no, of course not!" Betty felt almost frantic – it was like her body and spirit had been so wound up for so long that she couldn't feel anything like happiness or even relief. No, first she was going to have to make a pit stop at "panic." She looked at her apartment, which she hadn't had time to clean in a couple of days. "Not here, I don't think."

"Dinner?"

"I just ate. But – I've got your email with directions and everything. Can I come by your place?"

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Are you going to Tube it or – "

"I'll get a cab." The price for a fare from Bloomsbury to St. John's Wood would be steep, and it wouldn't be easy to hail a taxi on a cold Saturday night. But she needed to get to Daniel, right now, to find out if she was just hallucinating in front of some Hallmark Channel movie or whether she was looking at a real, true Christmas miracle.

Fun fact: Putting on lipliner in a taxicab is a bad idea.

When the cab took yet another turn that caused Betty to draw a mulberry smudge on her cheek, she grimaced and grabbed a tissue. Stupid, to be worrying about her makeup – Daniel had seen her bare-faced before, not to mention in sweatpants, an eye patch and even a butterfly costume. Her fuschia sweater and white skirt were haute couture by comparison. But she wanted to do something, anything, to calm herself down – to feel like she was preparing for this.

Her mind took her back to that first dinner, just a few hours after she and Daniel had run into one another in Trafalgar Square. He hadn't raised the issue of romance that night; it had been in her thoughts because of Claire's hints, but she'd told herself that was just maternal matchmaking, nothing else. A bit of silliness that made her go warm all over when Daniel leaned over the table to tell her a funny story about the flight over, or brushed his fingers against her arm – by accident, of course. Nothing more than that.

Yet now when she thought back on it, the way Daniel had looked that night was so vivid. The shyness of his smile, or the way he would drop his eyes for a moment before slowly lifting them to hers again. The red leather of the chair he'd sat in. The small gilt votive that cast flickering light on his face. Betty thought she could smell the bouquet of the red wine they'd drunk.

Her cellphone rang, startling her. She fished the phone from the chaos of her purse; it was Daniel. "Hi! I'm on my way."

"Good. It's just – my coach house is kind of set back from the road, and I gave you directions from the Tube, so I don't know if the cabbie can find it."

"What does it look like?"

"It's about halfway down the block, red brick with cream – but they're all red brick with cream – you know what, forget it. Make him let you out halfway down the block, and I'll be standing out there waiting for you."

Betty cradled the phone against the side of her face. "Daniel. It's freezing. Literally – the rain's starting to turn into snow." The droplets against the windshield took a moment to blur away now.

"I don't care." The softness of his voice made memory break over her in waves, and she could envision him again across the table, candlelight painting his face soft gold. "I just want you to find me."

She knew what he was referring to, and yet it seemed to say so much more. "I'm sorry this took me so long."

"It's okay. Traffic around Regent's Park is nuts –"

"Not the cab ride, Daniel. I mean – reaching out to you. Knowing what I wanted." She glanced at the front of the taxi, where the driver seemed too wrapped up in his own cell conversation to pay any attention to hers. Thank goodness. All the things she'd once thought she could never bring herself to say out loud wouldn't wait any longer. "I know I hurt you. I must have made you think I didn't believe in you."

A long pause followed that, filled only with her cabbie's mumbling and "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" from the radio. Finally Daniel said, "You're talking like you … owed it to me to go out with me, or something like that." She could imagine his concerned frown across that dinner table, the way the candlelight caught his kind eyes. "Which is crazy talk. It was your call to make."

"I made the wrong call. I hurt us both. I just don't understand why it took me so long to see it."

Daniel actually laughed. "Like I took four years, being near you every single day, to understand that you were the one for me?"

She hadn't actually looked at it in that light.

As the speckles on the taxi's windshield turned more and more from rain to snow, he continued, "I never blamed you for saying no. I mean, Jesus, you've seen me pretty low. You going out with me – honestly, it seemed like a long shot."

The distance they'd both traveled – from those first days to now, from December 8 to 11 – seemed farther to Betty than ever, their speed more intense, the journey more wonderful. "You should've called me, you know. Tried again."

"I didn't want you to think I was pathetic. Which – is more pathetic as a reason for not calling than actually calling could've been, oh, God."

"Are you kidding? I would never think you were pathetic. And after the stuff you've done this year?"

His voice sounded steadier when he spoke again, and she could envision him squaring his shoulders across that dinner table. "It means a lot to me that you still cared what I was doing."

"Always, Daniel." Betty could hear the softness in her voice, the need; she hoped he could too. "No matter what."

"We're okay now. Right? Better than okay."

She wanted to agree, but it was important to be honest. "We still have a lot we ought to talk through."

"I just – I don't care, Betty. I want you here."

"We're close, I think. Marlborough Place?" Betty was talking half to the cabbie now.

"Okay, I'm going outside. See you in a minute." Daniel's end of the connection snapped off, and she stuffed her phone back in her purse.

As directed, the cab driver let her off halfway down the block. Betty pulled her gray coat tightly around her to ward off the chill as she looked anxiously up and down the street. Nothing but snow was falling now, dotting her glasses, sparkling against her black hair.

Then she saw him: Daniel, wearing a camel overcoat that went with formalwear over what looked like lounge pants and house shoes, holding a red umbrella up against the snowfall. His face lit up, and finally, finally, the last of her panic and sadness melted away, leaving behind only joy.

_I'm here, and he's waiting for me, and we don't have to be apart any longer._

Betty took one hesitant step toward him before breaking into a run. Daniel remained where he was, but he held out his free hand, welcoming her into his embrace. She went faster and faster until the moment she flung herself into his arms.

He smelled so good – just like himself, a scent she hadn't even realized she knew so well. Better was the feeling of Daniel's arms around her, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"You made it." Daniel sounded even more relieved than she felt. He kept the umbrella steady – sheltering them both now, she realized. "You're really here."

"Really and truly."

Betty knew they ought to have any number of sensible conversations now. That hurrying things this important could sometimes be dangerous.

But she'd never felt more certain about the rightness of anything in her life than she did about grabbing the lapels of Daniel's coat and pulling him down for their first kiss.

The initial moment was tentative, unsure – their lips barely brushing, Daniel breathing in sharply as his hand tensed around her waist – but no more. He crushed her against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. Betty felt a wave of desire so strong it almost made her dizzy; the whirling of her mind and the fine, glittering snow around them made her feel for one instant as if she were in the center of a snowglobe being whirled about, some ideal winter scene for someone else to dream over. But this was her dream, coming true.

When they broke apart, Daniel's voice was ragged. "Betty. I love you." Her eyes must have gone wide with shock, because he added, "I can't wait any longer to say it."

"I love you too." His whole face lit up, more brilliant than any Christmas tree, and Betty didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry from joy. "Come on, let's get inside."

His arm still around her shoulders, with him keeping the umbrella protectively over her head the whole way, they walked along the drive to his home, which appeared to be a three-story coach house. As they went inside, Betty took in the first floor – one, long multipurpose room, with an entry hall complete with industrial-chic chandelier, then modern kitchen in stainless steel, a long dining set, and finally some kind of lounge area. Everything was dark wood and old brick and brushed metal, rich mahogany and richer cream and burnt orange. Obviously he'd had it done – but just as obviously, this was a far cry from a studio apartment with a swimsuit-model mural on one wall and fully half the floor space devoted to an enormous bed.

Though she was hoping some part of this house held an enormous bed.

Daniel folded up the umbrella as the white starry flakes against it melted into droplets. Betty slowly unbelted her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, and though she handed it to him to put on the rack, she knew neither of them cared very much about where her coat ended up at the moment. His stereo system – so expensive as to be invisible – played a jazzy version of "White Christmas." When he ditched his coat as well, she saw that he was wearing only a dark gray T-shirt over his black knit pants, designer loungewear that looked totally comfortable while hugging every line of his body.

_No ogling_, Betty thought._ At least, not yet._

"This is your home," she said.

He blinked. "Well, yeah. Obviously."

"I meant – you've really made a home here. Not just found a place to stay." Betty stepped further into the half-darkened apartment; most of the light shone from a few mica-shaded lamps, save for one bright, shiny spot in the kitchen. She could see a mixing bowl and some abandoned tomatoes on the island, wooden spoon still probably right where Daniel had dropped it to answer her phone call. But she walked past that, deeper into the house. "When did you buy this?"

"Two weeks after – after that last time we talked." Despite all his brave words, that memory evidently still hurt him. But he just as evidently was determined to push past that. "I considered going back to Manhattan, but that felt wrong. Like trying to go back in time, and maybe not in a good way."

She nodded, understanding this. As homesick as she'd sometimes been for New York, she'd never once come close to packing a bag. They really had been on the same journey this whole time; she just hadn't realized Daniel was on the path beside her until tonight. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks. Sometimes it just feels – big and empty." Betty looked over her shoulder at him to see that a small smile was dawning on his face. "But not now."

"Not ever again." And at that, she would have kissed him once more if he hadn't beaten her to it.

The next few moments were a delicious blur: the warmth of Daniel's mouth, the friction of the skin of his hands against her cheeks, her neck. The feeling of the hard muscles of his chest against the softer curves of his body. Craning up for him as he stooped down for her, both of them laughing between kisses, stumbling toward his sofa in an effort to make it more comfortable, sliding off that and onto his shag rug, which was far more comfortable yet. The firmness of the floor under her back as Daniel lowered himself over her. His teeth scraping against the flesh of her throat, her twisting alongside him, wanting to move with him –

"Whoa." Daniel caught her, his hand closing over the top of her head. "Be careful." She glanced back to realize that he'd just kept her from whacking against the glass edge of his coffee table.

This protective gesture, small as it was, warmed her heart all over again. Betty repeated, "I love you, Daniel. So much."

He had the most amazing, endearing, lopsided smile. "God, I hope this isn't some kind of Christmas-ghost-vision thing. Like in the movies. The Ghost of Christmas You Only Wish."

"Nope. Absolutely real." Betty shunted herself over, away from the coffee table, the better to crawl over Daniel and dip her head down to kiss him again. This kiss was more tantalizing than the rest – her breasts brushing his chest (how had she never realized how thin this sweater was before?), their lips only barely touching, her tongue tracing the contour of the kiss as their breaths flowed into and out of one another.

As their mouths parted, Daniel buried his hands in her hair, holding her face close. "I love you," he said. "And it would be easy for me to get – carried away, like this, and I know we need to be mature about everything. Talk things through. Take it slow, and – "

"I want you."

"Oh, God, yes," Daniel breathed, in the split second before he kissed her again.

Later that night – really, early the next morning – they returned to the sofa. Betty was hungry.

"Okay, these are supposed to be chili-and-lime prawns." Daniel, wearing only his knit pants as he padded back from the kitchen area, a tray in hand. "You don't want to know how long it took me to figure out that prawns are just shrimp."

Betty giggled. She was wrapped in Daniel's bathrobe – huge on her, thick and fuzzy, brilliant red, and soft against her bare skin. The stereo system, uninterrupted, still played holiday music, now "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." As Karen Carpenter sang, she teased him: "Supposed to be? I thought you were doing this whole party yourself."

"Buying some hors d'oeuvres at a local restaurant totally counts as doing it yourself. Let's see – what else did I buy? I think we have pea shoots with parmesan and seared scallops with bacon and tomato vinagrette. Do you want some wine?"

"Right now I just want you to come back here. You're too far away."

Daniel cuddled up with her on the couch, kissed her soundly, and then simply let her rest against him as she had her snack. Between bites, she said, "We're going to ruin your party if we eat all the food."

"I'll just have to make the rest myself. Hope peanut butter on crackers is chic."

"We'll do a trend piece on it in THAMES. You'll be the one who brought them into vogue. It's chic if we say it's chic."

"Wilhelmina would be so proud of you right now."

"Thanks. I think."

He sighed as he stroked his hand idly through her hair. "Any chance you'll suddenly be free for the party now?"

"My social calendar just cleared right up." A thought occurred to her, one that dimmed the smile on her face. "Uh-oh. Daniel – is Yuriko coming?"

"No, she has a concert, just like this evening. This is the time of year when musicians pick up a lot of party gigs. Thank God she was busy; if you'd called tonight and I couldn't really talk to you – that would've just killed me." For the first time since she'd bounded into his arms, Betty heard a tinge of sadness in Daniel's voice. "I have a date with her on Wednesday that I've got to break, though."

"Awkward."

"Yeah."

Betty propped up on one elbow to get a good look at his face. "You really liked her, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did," he said honestly. His fingers brushed beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his. "But I love you."

She smiled up at him. "I'm just glad I didn't waste any more time."

"The time wasn't wasted," he said, surprising her – mostly with how true it was. "Besides, we have more stories to tell each other. More to catch up on. Starting now."

They kissed again, the fire of the chili making it burn just a little. As Betty relaxed against Daniel, she heard the last song and the next one begin – Joni Mitchell's "River," once more.

She smiled into the kiss so much that he broke away from her, bemused. "What's funny?" he murmured.

"Nothing. I just love this song."

"Don't really know it."

"You should listen to it sometime," Betty said. "We both owe this song more than you can imagine."

"Really?" Daniel half-turned his head, already trying to pay attention to the lyrics. But she put her arms around him and kissed him so deeply that the words and the soft piano music faded far away.

"Sometime," she whispered. "Not now. We have better things to do now."

The song kept playing as sweetly, gently, all of its sadness turned into joy.

END


End file.
